


Four Seasons of Roses

by supernaturalwhovian



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Amy - Freeform, Doctor - Freeform, Eleventh - Freeform, F/M, Flowers, Goodbye, Heartbreak, Pond, Regeneration, Rose - Freeform, Seasons, Tyler - Freeform, four - Freeform, tenth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-28
Updated: 2014-08-28
Packaged: 2018-02-15 02:32:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2212476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supernaturalwhovian/pseuds/supernaturalwhovian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor has never taken a loss this poorly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Four Seasons of Roses

When it was spring, the Doctor saw the blooming roses and it brought a cynical laugh to his lips.   
He wondered if, were she a rose, she would have been red. Red was feisty like his Rose, but it seemed quite cliché. Soft pink wasn't tough enough for her, white he didn't think she would have liked. But yellow, maybe.   
Yellow roses were a soft yellow, like the early morning sunrise after rain. Like the small light that grew in his chest when she traveled with him, his first companion for ages. Soft yellow like her hair, spun like yarn or woven gold. It framed her face so beautifully, one of the very first things he noticed about her when he grasped her hand and said “run.”  
He had dreamed for so many years about running his hands through it when he held her close, wrapping it loosely around his fingers as he watched her sleep. He could imagine so very clearly the way the shafts of moonlight would fall across her face in the darkness, caressing it nearly as softly as the Doctor did. Her eyelids would flutter gently with her dreams, and her lips would turn up ever so slightly, and he would know that she knew he was there.   
Only that had never happened, and he had only realized how close he'd been to having her when she was too far away for him to ever reach again.

When it was summer, he thought he saw her in the girls walking down the street. The sun had a habit of lightening their hair in its favorite season, when it burned the hottest. He could barely turn any street corners without seeing her where she wasn't.   
The punch was only packed any worse when there was a thick, sweet smell in the sweltering air, his trench coat hanging damp around him with the humidity. He turned around to investigate, and that was when the Doctor saw it.  
The bush was full of yellow roses, in the very best days of their bloom.  
Like his Rose was when she'd been snatched away.

Autumn was when he started to feel better.  
The leaves were crunching under his feet. Nothing was soft pastels anymore, not even the flowers. They were browning and withering. The leaves were strewn through the streets and the lawns of dying grass in a last solar flare of the year, a burst of bronze and gold and orange.  
His blue box never looked more vibrant than next to the bushes that had shed their flowers long ago, only the occasional petal to be found.  
It should have been easier than it was, to bury her in his memories. He had so many, some of them even about other girls, that it should have been like trying to find a specific leaf in the street scattered with them, a needle in a haystack. Finding a specific, unnamed star light years away in the human sky should have been easier.  
But it wasn't.  
No loss had ever hurt him this bad, and he felt like he could never love again.   
Every companion felt like a betrayal.

Winter was a relief.  
It was a relief because the air was cold, biting and flushing his cheeks.  
Everything was quiet in the winter. The trees were frozen and bare. He could sense more flowers just underneath the blanket of snow. They were only asleep for now, or at least, they thought. They held the hope of rebirth, and maybe the Doctor should hold the same. Because, like flowers, he was always reborn, without fail. And he sensed that it wasn't far off.  
He said his goodbyes. He paid one to her. She didn't know who he was, but that was okay. The chill numbed the pain in his double heart. He briefly wondered, as the thought struck him, if, because they had two hearts, Time Lords loved more than humans. It would mean they had farther to fall for a crash land when everything was gone.  
His face changed and he was renewed, just as spring peeked its head out from under the blanket of winter, seeing if it was safe to come out.   
One of the first things he saw with his fresh eyes was a redhead.   
The last thought of his tenth season:  
 _Red. Just like a rose._  
And then he tucked her away.


End file.
